


To the End

by Kosho



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7918180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Decima was sent to the Conclave undercover as a Ferelden mage at the behest of her master. Her handler dead in the explosion, she has to serve now as Andraste's messenger. </p><p>There is more to the apostate servant than meets the eye, and it is not simply the mark that makes her more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> She is meant to have been raised in Tevinter in servitude, and as there are only a few examples of the language, I have substituted Latin for the parts I don't know. I will also offer translations in the notes.

Her eyes opened to darkness, punctuated only by the light of torches, and the glint cast off armor. Surrounded, though there was no reason for it in her mind. Her head was splitting with pain, and her hand burned, every nerve on fire, buzzing with numbness in between. A woman loomed over her, fury written in dark orbs, mouth set thinly in a deep frown. 

 

“You’re finally awake. Explain yourself.” she demanded, thinly concealed accusation in her words. 

 

“Tu mihi sunt ignota…” she mumbled. 

 

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the common tongue, only that she was frightened. There was an agonizing fear that these people may have captured her with the intent to return her to the care of her master, or possibly something much worse awaited her. 

 

“How is it you’re the only one who survived when all others, Divine Justinia included, perished in the blast?” she asked. 

 

“Ego autem non intelligo…” she tried once more. 

 

The woman reached down, fingers twisting in the folds of her robes, yanking her closer. There was no way she was buying her words, and she seemed the type who would go to extreme means to pry the answers from her. She had none, of course, a wide gap in her memory, the events that she demanded to know about all but gone. She recalled how she came to be here, but that was all. Her master sent her undercover as a ferelden mage, intent on learning what he could about the situation. 

 

“Why should we spare your life?” She pressed. 

 

Death. She couldn’t have known she would have thought that a blessing. Though her hands were bound, she leaned forward, a small smile on her face, sobbing joyfully. How could she possibly understand that for her, it was a promise, the promise of relief, the end of her suffering, and an unspoken vow that her master’s tight grip was finally over. 

 

“Please…” she begged. 

 

“Cassandra, don’t...we have need of her…” a second woman reminded her. 

 

So that was it then...it wasn’t over after all. Who could say what they intended for her, what they needed her to do that precluded her from freedom. Cassandra pulled her to her feet, unlocking her binds, though the second woman held a hand up to stop her, looking her over curiously. Elven, but lacking the markings of the Dalish, her face blank, it was clear she wanted to see what she could glean from her appearance, not particularly noteworthy, like any other elf for the most part. 

 

“I believe what you’re looking for is on my neck.” she offered. 

 

The woman moved her hair aside, her head dropping in an attempt to make it more visible in the dim light. A wide mark, black, thick in some places, thin and intricate in others, she knew the shape, but had never seen the marking for herself. 

 

“Cassandra, look.” she said. 

 

She sighed, but came around to look anyway. “We can worry about this later, if we survive. For now, we don’t have any time to concern ourselves with it.” 

 

“What is your name, whether we live or die is in your hands, Maker willing, we see tomorrow. It would be fitting to know the name of the one who will decide our fate?” Cassandra asked.

 

She didn’t truly have a name, not in the way they thought. She had never been given a proper one, addressed solely by a word that only indicated the order in which she was bought. “Decima.” 

 

The tenth of her master’s slaves, many who had died in the course of their time with him. She supposed one day she would join that number, and be replaced by someone who would also one day meet that fate. Cassandra led her outside, her hands coming up to shield her eyes, far too unaccustomed to the brilliant glare in the sky. She explained matters to her as she led her outside the village, towards a mountain path. The mark on her hand could possibly be the means to save the world from being destroyed by the Breach, the menacing hole in the sky that was decidedly  _ not _ there when last she remembered looking. The destination was the Temple of Sacred Ashes, or rather what remained of it. Though it looked close, it had already been a fair walk, and the Breach seemed no closer, no matter how far they had gotten. 

 

“Are there others, or is it just us?” Decima asked curiously. 

 

This was Southern Thedas, and all tales indicated that these people were the very antithesis of Tevinter standards, which in her mind said they were much nicer, probably. She didn’t  _ trust _ Cassandra, but it didn’t hurt to try and talk, surely. 

 

“There are others, soldiers, spies, even an apostate like yourself. Then there’s…” she stopped, emitting an annoyed groan before she continued. “A Dwarf.” 

 

Whether she had a problem with all dwarves, or just this particular one was unclear to her, but whichever it was, it was a topic she intended to avoid unless it was necessary to speak on it more. One thing had caught her attention initially. ‘An apostate like yourself’. How she knew she was a mage had caught her off guard, until she vaguely remembered that for the duration of her trip, she had been permitted to use whatever magic she felt necessary, within reason. There was someone...a handler, that was it. Someone who had been sent undercover with her, to ensure she would return without a fight. Cassandra had said only she made it out, which meant, surely he was gone as well. If the world survived the hole in the sky, he might one day come after her, but as long as she was needed here, that meant she was untouchable. Even  _ he _ wouldn’t dare march any sizable force through to Ferelden, not when they had isolated themselves from the rest of Thedas, or much of it, at least, with their actions in the past. 

 

“Excuse me, Lady Cassandra…” she mumbled quietly. 

“Yes?” she asked, not looking away from the path. 

 

“I...I  _ am _ safe here, right? For now, at least?” she asked, unsure what she was expecting. 

 

“For now. If the Breach is not sealed, no one is safe. If it is, then I suppose there might still be a trial. The future holds no certainty.” she explained briefly. “If you instead wonder if we might turn you over, I can assure you  _ I _ have no such plans.” 

 

That was somewhat comforting. Though if it came down to it, with access to magic, and the weapons scattered around, if they lived through it and they tried, well...there was always a way out, even if it wasn’t what she wanted to do. 


	2. Haven Concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decima has stopped the Breach from growing and all are grateful. The Advisors, however, have a few complaints about her behavior...

The Breach had been stilled, an outcome that did not go as planned, and yet it encouraged the growth of the tales. Decima, the Tevinter apostate was  _ definitely _ chosen by the Maker, the true Herald of Andraste. That, of course, did nothing to change her behavior, as quiet and respectful as ever, only now it was driving most crazy. While they waited for the right time to head to Val Royeaux, Cassandra had all but ordered her to return to her room and wait quietly, her requests for her to do as she wished backfiring. 

 

“That girl...I don’t think she understands this at all…” she sighed. 

 

“I found her in my office this morning arranging my quills and inkwells...I told her she did not have to, but she seemed not to notice…” Josephine added. 

 

“She was cleaning the cages as well. I have people that tend to the messengers…” Leliana said, trying to be as nice about it as possible. 

 

“She insisted on patching up a small hole in my sleeve…” Cassandra said, adding to the list of complaints. 

 

They turned to Cullen, curious to see if he had anything to add, more out of a strange kind of interest by this point. His clearly flustered expression meant there was something there, but his shifting glance said he wasn’t intent on sharing. Their eyes didn’t move, however, and he finally gave in, his face flushing clear to the tips of his ears.

 

“She’s a nice girl.” he said, forced to elaborate when they wouldn’t leave it alone. “Maker’s Breath, she asked if I was her new master. If I find out that Dwarf had something to do with that, I’ll…” he sighed, shaking his head. 

 

Josephine and Leliana erupted in a fit of giggles, and even Cassandra cracked a smile at that. Varric probably did have a hand in it, or maybe she developed that idea on her own, for whatever reason. Either way, it was clear Decima still had the mindset of a captive, and it wasn’t clear how they could prod that idea from her mind. Leliana interrupted the collective good mood, setting down a stack of papers, tapping the topmost. It bore the same mark drawn on as the tattoo on the back of the Herald’s neck. 

 

“I’ve been discreetly looking into this. Reports are scarce as of yet, though it has been established as being Tevinter in origin. It is likely that it was placed on her when she was purchased, but to what ends I cannot begin to imagine.” she began, gesturing to the commander. “I initially believed it was similar to those used by the Templars, and it may still be, but it does not match any examples we have seen. On the chance that it has something to do with magic, I have also asked Solas to look into it, it’s possible he has encountered similar symbols in his travels.” 

 

The scribbling sounds of Josephine’s quill scratching the paper echoed in the war room, her attention gone for a few moments before she added in to the matter. 

 

“I do maintain some contacts in Tevinter, I may be able to learn more if I reach them. In addition, I will attempt to contact some scholars who could point us in the right direction. It couldn’t hurt.” she said. 

“Does it truly matter? If it isn’t a danger to her or to us, must we look into it so closely? The Herald couldn’t even identify what it was. I doubt she’s had a chance to see it because of the location, and what exactly are we supposed to do about it? Save for cutting it off and hoping for the best, we don’t have the means to remove it, harmful or not.” Cullen explained. 

 

“I have heard tales of exceptional mages who can answer those questions and fix the problem, if there is one to be found. Unfortunately, the last one I could find was a woman named Wynne, and her trail vanished after the last Blight. I have been told she is very likely dead, as even her time with the Hero of Ferelden shows that she was already in a weakened state.” Leliana said, observing the map in silence. 

 

Cullen caught the look Cassandra cast him, and as though he understood the meaning, he vehemently shook his head. 

 

“Absolutely not. That’s not an option. For one, he was incredibly dangerous and unstable. Then there’s the people to consider. They would become fearful, and possibly be exposed to more harm than good. Of course, this is all on the assumption that anyone could even  _ find _ him, which no one can. I’d feel better if Solas instead took a look. I can’t say that we can trust him or not either, but at the very least, he kept her from dying already, surely if it’s a problem, he might be able to do something about it.” Cullen interjected. 

 

The argument was stalled once more by the sudden arrival of one of the soldiers, his expression slightly apologetic, and equally stressed. The collective group shifted their focus to him instead, quiet, as if waiting for him to speak. 

 

“Sorry to interrupt. I’ve been asked by the blacksmith to send someone to fetch the Herald. She’s been rearranging everything and trying to tidy up the forge. Harritt is having a fit.” he reported. 

 

“It will be taken care of.” Leliana said. When he left, she spoke again. “I have some matters to attend to. I cannot leave my post.” 

 

“I have letters that urgently need to be sent out.” Josephine reminded. 

 

“I  _ could _ try my luck again, though perhaps she’d listen better if her ‘Master’ were to tell her to stop?” Cassandra stated, impossible to tell if she was joking or not.

 

Cullen palmed his face, heaving a sigh. He regretted mentioning it at all now, and he knew this was one thing that he wouldn’t be allowed to live down peacefully. 

 

“Fine. I will do what I can, but since I need to oversee training, Cassandra should be made to deal with Solas.” he said. 

 

“This is a fair point. I’d imagine even an ex-Templar would make him hesitant to speak freely.” Josephine said over the sound of her writing. 

 

“And a Seeker wouldn’t?” Cassandra asked. “Ugh. I’ll see to the mage then.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Cullen sighed to himself, in addition to his regular duties, already too many in number as it might be, he now had the envious task of trying to keep an eye on the Herald. Leliana had insisted that since she believed he was the one she had to answer to, that he should be the one to teach her how to conduct herself, in preparation for the trip to Val Royeaux. That did nothing to stop the speculation and rumors that were now making the rounds, rumors he wanted no part of, all entirely untrue. At present, he had to watch her to make sure she didn’t run off while Solas attempted to make sense of the mark on her neck. Palming his face, he hesitantly patted her head with his free hand. 

 

“Just let him look, alright? He won’t do anything strange.” he tried to coax her. 

 

Decima bit her lip, but nodded, tipping her head down without complaint. Solas pushed her hair to the side, taking a good look at it, trying to make sense of it before he touched it, just a bare, gentle touch. She arched, crying out like he had hurt her, though he was certain it wasn’t enough to cause pain. Out of curiosity, he touched it again, eliciting the same sharp cry from her. 

 

“This will make matters more difficult. It was clearly meant to accomplish something, but if simply touching it causes pain, it won’t be easy to remove it. Without an understanding of how it was applied and what it is meant to do, I could not recommend further investigation at present.” he explained, frowning. “I cannot imagine what kind of person would subject someone to this.” 

 

“The only thing we can guess about her...previous master...was the obvious, he’s from Tevinter. But who he is and where he is currently, she won’t elaborate. Rightly so, I’d imagine she has no desire to attract the attention of someone like that.” Cullen said. 

 

“Herald, can you recall anything about this on your own?” he asked quietly. 

 

She cringed, rubbing at her eyes furiously before she raised her head once more, shrugging. Her eyes fell briefly to the Commander, as if asking his permission to answer the question. Sighing again, he gestured to Solas as if telling her it was okay. 

 

“You don’t need my permission to speak to others.” he told her. Truthfully, he had lost count of how many times he had already told her just that. He had an idea of how to make it stick, but he hated the thought. “Ugh...consider it an order, talk to whoever you like, whenever you like. Understand?” 

 

Decima stared at him silently for a time, and he had the feeling she didn’t actually get it still, though she finally nodded. When she was certain he meant it, she tipped her head to look at Solas properly, again shrugging to emphasize her prior lack of knowledge on the matter. 

 

“Master...my old master, I mean. He used the others for their blood, but some fought. He said he needed a way to prevent them from attacking without separating them from their own magic. I’m not sure what he meant. That’s...really all I know.” she mumbled, bowing her head apologetically. 

 

That was tricky. There could still be any number of ways it was applied, and attempts to remove it, as he had speculated, could only cause more problems. He had seen a great many things in his travels through the Fade, and had a fair amount of knowledge on all things magical, but this, this was not one of them. He had no idea where to begin. He looked to Cullen, crossing his arms over his chest, a look that indicated he was surely about to deliver unfavorable news. 

 

“I can, of course, look into this further, if you wish. My advice, however, would be to seek out someone who might have a better understanding of how to treat her without causing damage to her or...well, her spirit.” he told him. 

 

“That sounds bad. What do you mean?” he wondered. 

 

“It’s only a guess, but based on her explanation, and what little I know of Tevinter, I can make a decent guess. It may function as a lesser form of Tranquility. He needed her to maintain a limited magical connection, there are unproven studies that mage blood is more potent. It may act as a means to limit how much she can use. Based on how she reacted to touch, it’s possible that if she tried to use more than the mark allows, it would cause a similar, if more severe amount of pain. Simply put, it is a form of torture.” he said, practically spitting the last words with utter disgust. 

 

Mages torturing and using other mages was nothing new to him, he had seen plenty of that both in the Ferelden Circle and in Kirkwall. Certainly Templars were no cleaner in their hands, the atrocities known to most, even as many chose to overlook what wrongs they had done for the sake of safety, safety from a power that even he couldn’t fully say he understood. To think that anyone could use someone for no reason other than what coursed through their veins, no, not even that. That much was familiar, to intentionally hurt someone as well-meaning as this poor girl was...how anyone could actively want to hurt her in such ways when by all examples, she obeyed without a single complaint, and beyond that, went to such lengths to be helpful even where it wasn’t appreciated for the sake of trying to make others happy...it felt very wrong. 

 

“What kind of person would you suggest could help this…?” Cullen asked, knowing he might regret the answer. 

 

“You’ll want to find a spirit healer. That would be the only kind of person I could imagine might be able to fix this without hurting her further.” Solas answered. 

 

_ Shit. _ He knew of one right off, but it was absolutely the last person he wanted to expose anyone to. No. The best option was to have Leliana make inquiries into whether or not Wynne still lived, and if she did, if she was able to make the trip. He would exhaust all options in Thedas before he would even  _ consider _ hunting down the only other mage of such skill for this. 

 

“Thank you. You’re dismissed, just...do whatever it is you usually do. I have a few other matters to attend to before I can release her to her duties as well.” he muttered. 

 

“Very well. If there’s further need of me, I’ll be here.” he said, walking away. 

 

“Herald...I mean...Decima…” he began, shaking his head slowly. It was bizarre not to refer to her as the Herald, but it seemed that the only name she’d acknowledge was the one she was given, admittedly not even her own. What her actual name was, even she couldn’t begin to say, leaving him with what was ultimately just a number, sad really. “Do you remember what we practiced?” 

 

She looked up at him, a small smile on her face as she nodded. Before she gave an actual reply, she hastily pulled a cloth from her pocket, her hands darting out to grasp his. He flinched at the sudden movement, embarrassed by such a reaction, she was just so  _ fast _ . She wiped at a spot on his armor, intently focused on that until he put his hand over hers to stop her. 

 

“Decima...you don’t have to do that.  _ Please _ , focus, alright? We need to make sure you can handle yourself in Orlais, this is important. I can’t go with you, so you need to be able to act for yourself. Cassandra will be with you, if you do need help.”  he explained again. 

 

She hung her head, frowning slightly. “I’m not sure I’m qualified for this. If you say it must be so, I’ll do my very best…” 

 

He sighed, he had been doing a lot of that lately. Patting her head again, he helped her stand. “I have every confidence you’ll do just fine. Head back to the chantry and report in with Leliana, alright? Explain to her what happened here and let her know when you’re ready to set out. I’d rather not order you about, but if it must be, consider it an order.” 

 

“Yes, master. I’ll go right away.” she replied cheerfully, sprinting off. 

 

Maker, this was complicated. He had never wanted, nor had he ever had so much as a servant, and he desperately hoped she managed to understand that she was her own person now, no more master. He supposed some might actually envy him for having such a pretty woman doing whatever he asked, but that was over complicating matters, what he wanted more than anything was for her to learn what to do on her own...

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 translations: 
> 
> Tu mihi sunt ignota - 'you are unknown to me' (essentially, I don't know you.)  
> Ego autem non intelligo - I don't understand (roughly)


End file.
